


The Doors Are Locked

by RaphaelArchie



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era memories, Always, Angry Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Angst, Bones needs to bleach his eyes, Bones' past, Boys In Love, Cuddling, Dark Past, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epic Bromance, Hand Jobs, Jim and Spock are BUSTED, Jim would quite literally die if Bones wasn't around, Joanna McCoy - Freeform, M/M, Male Friendship, POV James T. Kirk, POV Leonard McCoy, Protective Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Starfleet Academy, Starship Enterprise (Star Trek), Starship Enterprise - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-04-30 17:25:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14501904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaphaelArchie/pseuds/RaphaelArchie
Summary: It was only a matter of time before Bones found out. Or, rather, that he admitted to himself what he'd suspected all along. Except for that admittance was helped along by the fact that Jim and Spock have both disappeared off the face of....well, all of the planets, and Bones really would rather have not had to deal with this situation, which escalates rapidly into what is DEFINITELY TOO MUCH INFORMATION.Because we love Bones because he loves Jim and because he reluctantly loves Spock because Jim loves Spock and Spock loves Jim, and because Bones would rather just hypo everyone into next light-year, mug Scotty, and have a quiet evening with the whiskey, thank you very much.





	1. He KNEW it!

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this wasn't the next intended fic, but it wrote itself, so here it is! 
> 
> I originally wanted to give Jim and Spock a bit more attention/time together before they had to deal with anyone else, and the fics that do that are up and running - this one where Bones finds out was on the go at the same time, and meant to be published probably fourth or even fifth. But, I do love the dynamic between Bones and Jim, Bones and Spock, and, crucially, between Bones and Jim/Spock when those two are together. I always have the impression that he's torn between locking them up at opposite ends of the ship forever, or holding them at hypo-point until they agree to get married. 
> 
> When I get the other fics up, they will likely go back to before Bones finds out - but they are quite abstract anyway, in terms of events etc - so there shouldn't be a continuity problem.
> 
> Hope it's ok! xx

“The science lab is locked, sir”, Chekov was saying, in his relentlessly cheerful and eager manner that did not match Bones’ current mood ( _angry_!!) “There is temporarily no access”.

Bones, having just come up to the bridge from the _conspicuously empty captain and commander’s quarters_ where his creeping sense of disconcertion had begun, was rapidly losing the battle in ignoring every instinct in his body that was telling him what was happening…NopeNopeNopeNopeNopeNope. He had commed Jim thirty minutes ago merely to ask exactly how drunk they were planning on getting that evening, and did he need to prepare an extra bed in the medbay so that Jim had no excuse this time to crash and throw up in Bones’ own, and there had been no answer.

This was rare.

Alright, so Jim was busy.

But he was off shift.

Ok, so he was asleep.

Unlikely.

Also, he would always answer to Bones, and even more so if he was off shift. Bones left it five minutes, then commed him again.

No reply.

Was he ill? Suffering from some injury sustained on the last trip that he somehow managed to disguise?

Jim. Likely.

Well, he’d just have to have a trip down there then wouldn’t he. And somehow, as he stepped out of the medbay and started along the corridor in the direction of Jim’s quarters, he managed to ignore the fact that he knew full well that Jim wasn’t ill, and that something somewhere inside him was desperately trying to yank him back, yelling “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD MAN, DO NOT PULL AT THIS THREAD!!!”

And of course, Jim was not in his quarters. So, Bones had done the most obvious thing, and knocked on Spock’s door adjoining Jim’s…and Spo -

….Spock wasn’t there either.

With that increasing sense of trepidation, Bones had reached for his Comm. And blithely overlooking that that something inside him that had previously tried to rescue him had now changed its tone to “alright man, your funeral”, he contacted Spock.

And Spock had not answered.

Bones had then embarked on what he knew really was a fairly pointless search of the rest of the ship. They were not in the engine rooms, they were not in the gym, they were not in the mess hall.... And they were still not answering their comms. Bones had specifically left the science lab until last, because – after their quarters (or rather, more accurately, after each other’s quarters) – it was the place they were most likely to be, and for as long as he had not checked there, he could still quite easily convince himself that they were discussing something weird and sciency and Spocky, or that Jim had been letting the Tribbles breed again, and opening the doors would allow a literal tidal wave of fur to swamp the ship. But he’d been a way from the science deck by that point, and he was fairly sure that there would be no access to the science lab anyway, so he’d come up to the bridge, where Chekov had gaily informed him that there was currently no access to the science lab anyway.

Because the doors were locked. And they had been locked by someone with authority. Locked so that only medical override could open them.

He KNEW it!

Bones passed a hand over his eyes. It was still perfectly possible that they were in there for work reasons. Except for it wasn’t, really, was it Leonard? - Said that part of his brain that had tried to stop him from the outset and then given up, and was now leaning jauntily against a nearby wall smoking a cigarette and watching the carnage unfold. And it hadn’t really taken his finding neither of them in their quarters, or anywhere else on the ship, or even finding out that the doors were locked, for him to realise. Really, he had known from the moment he had pressed the button to comm Jim. He had known Jim wasn’t going to answer. And he had known why.

He had no idea why it should be this particular time, this particular day, that his subconscious should choose to merrily deliver this information to the _aaaaaarrrgghhhh so very very conscious_ part of his brain. He had been quite happy with the knowledge lurking back there in the recesses, thank you very much, along with other Things That He Most Definitely Did Not Want to Think About, like how many days they had left in space, or what the person was doing who first discovered that Excalibans’ saliva tasted like popcorn. It had just been a shadow of awareness, the odd “Say, do you reckon-“ that a small part of his mind would randomly ask, before being soundly round-housed by some other, stronger cells who manned the barrier between Things That He Most Definitely Did Not Want to Think About, and Things That He Was Going to Have to Bloody-Well Think About, Because His Captain and His First Officer Were Clearly Banging.

[“Sorry”, those guard cells were whispering to him now. “We dropped the ball there mate. So yeah...that thought’s a thing now. Enjoy”. Irresponsible, lazy bastards].

Now, standing on the bridge – literally and figuratively - Bones had a choice. He glanced at Sulu, and considered for one moment trying to make everything go away by pretending that he was about to meet Jim and Spock in the Arboretum, which would place them somewhere where _the dammed doors were not locked,_ and would allow him just to go away and pretend that none of this had ever happened, and that he had never noticed in the first place that Jim looked at Spock as though he wanted to eat him with a spoon, and that Spock looked at Jim as though he were the physical embodiment of a remade planet Vulcan. But he found Sulu looking back at him.

“Have you by any chance had any recent contact with the Captain, Doctor?” He asked.

There was a slight raise in his eyebrows. Bones swallowed. Did he know? Did he know that Bones knew? Did he know that Bones knew he might know?

Bones cleared his throat.

“Er, no, actually, not for a few hours”, he replied, failing miserably to keep his voice casual.

Sulu’s eyebrows raised a fraction more.

“It’s not important”, he said. “I would ask Spock – but he doesn’t seem to be available either”.

He knew.

With that, Sulu threw a last loaded glance at Bones, and turned back to his panel. And Bones internally sighed. Dammit, Jim. Barking a gruff “get the captain to comm me when you see him”, which was purely for form, because when he got his hands on Jim he was going to throttle him so hard that it would make Spock’s attempt look as though the Vulcan was teaching him to knit, he stomped off the bridge in customary grim fashion, and turned himself in the direction of the science lab.

He’d known it. HE'D KNOWN IT! As he strode along, Bones realised that – now that he knew he knew – his thought process of the last hour or so had changed. There was no longer a battle of resistance going on. Instead, he could reflect properly on this situation, and what it meant. And this, he found unexpectedly, was a huge relief. Because – and this he _had_ actually known all along – a large part of him was happy. Extremely happy – and _relieved_ , in fact, for them. He had died a thousand pining-related deaths along with Jim from afar over the last few years, and it was precisely how clear it was that Spock adored Jim that he had (reluctantly but unavoidably) softened his opinion of the pointy-eared robotic hobgoblin.

The other part of him, however, the Jim’s-oldest-friend, the Jim’s-best-friend part, the part that had stood with him during that mess in the academy when Jim first laid eyes on Spock and made that first contact with the being that was going to have more power over Jim than gravity itself, he did not appreciate the idea of what would happen if this all went wrong. He may have brought Jim back from the brink of medical related disaster countless times – hell, he’d brought him back to damned _life_. Twice, if you included that incident on Tarsellius 2 when they had discovered that Jim was allergic to Tarsellian avocados, because Jim, and Bones had not had enough of the Jim-specific hypos synthesised to forestall the worst of the reaction and he had had to revert to actual CPR until Chekov had finally responded to Spock’s increasingly urgent barked instructions as to where to find the last emergency kit in Jim’s quarters. Chekov had beamed down wide-eyed and panting, and in his pyjamas. Which were pink. (Bones was fairly sure Jim only made it back that time because there was some part of him that was aware of Chekov’s pink pyjamas, and there was no way in this good galaxy that he was not going to live to see that).

But Bones had no doubt – no doubt whatsoever – that if this went wrong, whatever this was between him and Spock, it would likely end their captain. Kill him more dead than the warp core had. If Spock hurt Jim, well.....Bones just didn't have a hypo for that.  This was what Bones objected to. He loved Jim dearly. He, ugh, reluctantly sort-of-tolerated-sort-of-liked-OKAY-SO-SORT-OF-LOVED-IN-A-‘BECAUSE-MY-BEST-FRIEND-LOVES-YOU-AND-BECAUSE-YOU’RE-OCCASIONALLY-A-PRETTY-OKAY….. _THING_  '- WAY Spock also. But Jim was his primary concern. Jim was the best captain Starfleet had ever, and would ever, have. He was brave, loyal, bright, and cocky, the perfect combination of kindness and ruthless determination.

But not where Spock was concerned. Here, Jim was a little boy. The same little boy who was used to being left, who _expected_ to be left, who concealed a heartbreaking fragility beneath that sun-glow exterior that was unlikely to withstand much more. He adored Spock with such palpable outpouring that this vulnerable little boy had been brought much closer to the surface. And Bones wasn't sure, not yet, that Spock could fully manage this fragility. He was Vulcan - emotion, and especially emotion that was not clearly expressed, was not his forte. Bones did not doubt Spock's perceptivity when it came to Jim. And if all else failed, Spock could look through a meld and be able to see it clearer than Jim did. But did he love him for that part of him? It was all very well being in love with Starfleet's best captain, with the confident, golden man who led them, looked after them, defended them, sacrificed for them. It would be quite another to love him for his pain, the trauma that even Jim himself didn't understand, the shadows that by Jim's natural radiance were made all the darker. Could Spock understand and absorb this? Could he be alongside Jim in the very farthest depths of himself, where Jim still wandered as a small boy, lost, lonely, and hungry? Could he handle Jim's defencelessness against the power of what he felt for Spock? Ultimately, could he be _responsible_  with it, treat it with all the love and compassion - all the _humanity -_ that it needed?

He would have to talk to Jim. Dammit, he would have to talk to Spock. And by ‘talk’ to them, he meant speak sternly to them. And by ‘speak sternly’, he meant yell at them. And by 'yell', he meant threaten. At length. In several languages. With a few hypos thrown in, just for good message-reinforcing measure.

But first, he was going to use the medical override to open the science lab. Thought they were clever, did they? Thought no-one would notice eh? Well don’t disappear off radar at the same time and use maximum security to seal the room! Space idiots. No, he was going to open the doors so that they had no choice but to be honest with him. He couldn’t imagine the scene in there would be particularly graphic - this was Spock for heaven’s sake. Spock barely reacted when he got shot, Bones could hardly think he’d be the…hugely physically passionate type. So he was going to throw those doors wide, and expose them, and expose the fact that ha, he’d KNOWN ALL ALONG!!

And with this slightly daunting but going-to-be-oh-so-satisfying prospect in mind, he stomped harder, a group of ensigns he had just passed in the corridor remaining within hearing distance just long enough to hear the distant roar of, “ _Dammit Jim!_ ”

...................................................................................

 

Meanwhile, Jim was busy trying to, in simple terms, get his tongue as far down his hugely physically passionate first officer’s throat as possible.

They were, fortunately, both still in underclothes – their black short-sleeved undershirts and black boxers…But the universe often has a certain way of arranging certain timings, and given how much universe they were currently surrounded by, it was hardly a surprise when it hit a few home runs.

For Jim thrust his hand into Spock’s boxers, pulling him free, just as Bones turned into the corridor…

...He set up a rhythm, rapid and firm – the one that made Spock make that sound, the sound that had the power to reduce Jim to teenage boy if he heard it in his dreams – just as Bones strode determinedly down to the door….

...Spock turned Jim to face away, and reached around to take hold of him from behind – something Jim could not get enough of – just as Bones paused for one last sweep over the debate in his head about whether or not to use the override…

...Jim, with one hand flat on the metallic desk in front of him, reached the other hand back to regain his hold on Spock, matching his movements - just as Bones threw all caution out of every window on the ship…

...And Spock tightened his grip, utilising the Vulcan heat in his hand to bring Jim to the edge within seconds, and Jim didn’t-quite-stifle-a-yell, a yell that was suddenly drowned out by the wailing of the medical override sirens, and the rush of the science lab doors as they slid neatly and obediently open to reveal Bones – mad, stunned, mad, triumphant, mad, shocked, Bones – looking for all the world as though he couldn’t decide between setting fire to his own eyes, or collecting his winnings.

Bones called the sirens off. Then, in the absolutely perfect silence that followed, the two parties simply stared at each other, all flung suddenly into a dumbfounded rigidity. Not one of them could gather the presence of mind to move an inch. Spock, flush to Jim’s back, his arm around Jim’s side, and his hand probably the only thing that was giving Jim ANY kind of dignity (if one played it fast and loose with the term ‘dignity’) – Jim, struggling not to stagger under the monumental effort of trying to retract the almost immediate effect that Spock’s hand around him always had, both of them sweating and dishevelled, their blue and gold uniforms scattered decoratively (and expansively) around them….

And Bones, fixed gaze, opened mouthed - simultaneously incredulous and victorious…..utterly lost for anything to even shout at them.

And before Jim or Spock could say anything, before they had even moved, Bones gave a slight shake of his head, grimaced in his eternally irritated way, held up his hands, and turned away. Over his retreating shoulder, they just caught his one, throw away mutter, before he ordered the doors shut again.

“God I hate space”.


	2. A Logical Inference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following what was probably Bones' most interesting discovery in the science lab, Jim has gone immediately to find him and explain why he hadn't told him. Spock reassures Jim that as predictably bad-tempered as Bones' initial reaction might be, the doctor loves him. And that therefore he will understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although when I began writing this the focus was on Jim and Spock, it has shifted since I've paid more attention to Bones himself. Bones and Jim's relationship is on a parr with J/S for me, just in different ways. Do love a good bromance, and I think these two are the epitome of it. It's made all the better by Bones' eternal grumpiness and its relation to the fact he is whole-heartedly devoted to Jim. So this has become about Bones and Jim, and there'll be another chapter to follow, in which we hear more from both of them about what they mean to each other. It's also generated some backstory, but that might be saved for something separate. 
> 
> Hope it's ok! xxxx

Jim sighed, and braced himself for the hundredth time. He was standing outside the medbay door - and never before had he wanted to go in there less. Which was saying something. He’d have gladly swapped the entire post-warp-core-Khan-blood-transfusion period he’d spent in the hospital on Earth for this. Which was saying something even more, given that for at least some of that time he’d been, well, dead.

But, it had to be done.

Bones had seen them, for God’s sake. He’d actually _seen_ them.

Jim didn’t take much umbridge with Bones having caught him doing what he was doing per se – they’d shared a room for the entire five years of the academy and had had the odd near miss then. Also, all other personal boundaries were lowered by sharing that space anyway. Sleeping, dressing, undressing, showering, throwing up after particularly spectacular nights out, had all been done in front of each other, repeatedly. They had raided each other’s stashes, and used each other’s shower gel. They had, on the odd (well, for Jim fairly regular) occasion that one hadn’t done their laundry, borrowed each other’s underwear. They had quarantined themselves together when one or the other was ill. They had sat up late into the night together, shoulder to shoulder on the sofa, when either had simply needed the company. They had wiped blood, sweat, and tears from each other, both physically and emotionally. They had slept in the wrong beds, they had slept in the same bed.

Then there was the fact that Bones was his doctor, and Jim needed a doctor _frequently._ Bones had poked and prodded and jabbed and wiped and stitched and swabbed so many places on Jim’s body that he was probably more intimate with it than even Jim’s most outlandish sexual encountees (apart from Spock. Jim inwardly smiled). There had been one or two occasions where afterwards Jim had almost expected Bones to offer to buy him breakfast. Thank God tricorders could perform a prostate exam.

No, it wasn’t that Bones had seen, well…. _that._ It was the fact that he had seen at all, before Jim had had time to tell him. At this, Jim had been distraught.

 

............................................................................................

 

_‘God I hate space”._

 

_Then Bones was gone, the doors slamming shut behind his retreating back._

 

_Jim, still not moving from where he was bent over the metal implement stand, dropped his head, his back heaving up into Spock’s chest as he took a deep breath through his swiftly decreasing rapid ones._

 

_“Fuck”._

 

_“That was…..unfortunate timing”, Spock said, gently retracting his hand from Jim and rearranging Jim’s underwear. He stood back, took his own breath to re-steady body and mind, took Jim by the upper arm and turned him to face him, sitting him back against the pedestal. Both of their hearts were still hammering, the sweat still coming, although it was beginning to cool as their bodies calmed.  Spock could feel Jim’s distress, although the emotions of which it was comprised were confused. Guilt? Regret? Sadness? Anxiety?_

 

_J_ _im didn’t meet his eyes. He put his hands over his face and groaned. Spock thought he understood. But he encouraged Jim to speak it out anyway._

 

_“Jim?”_

 

_“I’m sorry, Spock”, he said, from behind his hands, a slight shake of his head. Then he took his hands from his face and threw his head back._

 

_“Aaaaarrrghhhhhfuckinghellthisisbad”._

 

_Guilt took on clear shape in Spock’s mind._

 

_Spock moved closer to Jim, so that they were in the one and same space. He put his cheek to Jim’s, letting Jim feel his understanding, his love, and the precious rarity that was Vulcan sympathy._

 

_“You are concerned that Doctor McCoy discovered the nature of our relationship before you had had chance to inform him personally”._

 

_Jim leant in on Spock, hiding from the reality of what had just happened, absorbing the deep support._

 

_“He’s my best friend, Spock”, he said, voice muffled from within the depths of Spock’s solid shoulder. “He knows everything about me, he’s been there in everything. And this is probably the biggest of all the everythings, ever”._

 

_Spock smiled at the meaning of this._

 

_“I wasn’t keeping this from him as such, I just...I’ve loved the privacy, you know? Only you and me, something we’ve got that doesn’t involve anyone else – no crew, no Starfleet, no Federation. Just….us. And that’s what I want. Us. That’s why we haven’t told anyone yet, and that’s been good. But…. I’ve never kept anything from Bones. I love telling him things. Quite often, I need him to know. It makes things right in the world when he knows, whatever it is. I just thought there’d be a bit more time. I can’t bear the idea that he thinks I wouldn’t – “_

 

_Spock drew back and lifted Jim’s chin with a long finger._

 

_“I have no doubt, Jim, that Doctor McCoy knows you love him. What is more, I have no doubt that he loves you”._

 

_“Even when he yells at me?” Jim grinned._

 

_“He raises his voice to you in concern”._

 

_“He always raises his voice to me”._

 

_“He is always concerned about you”._

 

_“….well played”._

_Spock held Jim’s gaze._

_“Doctor McCoy is an intelligent man – “_

_“Spock!” Jim mock exclaimed, his natural tendency to make light of situations suddenly getting the better of him. “Did I hear that right? Are you complimenting Bones?!”_

_Spock gave the extremely subtle but extremely potent Vulcan version of an eye-roll. But then his expression was kind again._

_“Anyone who has that level of regard for you Jim will always be deserving of praise”._

_Jim kissed him._

_“But my point, Jim, is this”, Spock continued. “Doctor McCoy is intelligent, and – despite the fact that he frequently goes to quite specious lengths to bring a challenge to this observation – reasonable, and it would be entirely unreasonable for him to not accept your reason for having not disclosed this to him sooner. As he is reasonable, and as he loves you, there is a logical inference that he will accept it”._

_“I don’t want him to be hurt”, Jim said, quietly._

_“He may be temporarily disconcerted or perhaps experience a degree of indignant annoyance at the turn of events”, Spock said, evenly. “That is to be expected”_

_“Why do you think it’s expected?_

_“Because he is human”._

_“But I don’t think all humans on this ship would react like that”._

_“Very well, because he is Leonard”._

_Jim considered this for only a moment before giving a shrug of acquiescence._

_“But it will not be long before he understands. You are of too great an importance to the doctor for him to insist on being displeased. Especially if he recognises your happiness”._

_Jim looked closely into Spock’s face. He did not have to have Vulcan telepathy to hear and see the loading behind those last words. He took Spock’s hand, aware of the power of this gesture to the Vulcan._

_“When he recognises my happiness, Spock”, he said. “When. I’ve never known happiness like it”._

_A shadow of a smile crossed Spock’s face, which he masked quickly in maintaining Jim’s need for seriousness in this moment._

_“Well then”, he said. “At the risk of repeating myself, Leonard will understand. And that, I believe, will alleviate any transitory injury”._

_Jim looked down at their joined hands and sighed._

_“What would I do without you Spock?”_

_“To give you the most factual answer to that question that is appropriate to this moment - you would not have been seen by your best friend with your First Officer’s hand in your underwear in the science lab, and therefore would not have to be addressing this particular challenge”._

_Jim laughed._

_“I would still rather that my First Officer’s hands were in my underwear”, he said, leaning forwards and running the palm of his free hand down the front of Spock’s boxers. Spock moved into his touch as far as he dared, knowing that their time in this particular meeting was now limited. Jim knew this too, only giving Spock a gentle squeeze before putting both his hands on the Vulcan’s hips and leaning his forehead on his chest._

_“But”, he said, “….holy shit this is going to suck”._

_“Are you going to speak to him now?”_

_“Yeah…this is bad enough already, and he’ll be wondering how long it’s been….I can’t leave it any longer”._

_“Wise. But may I make one suggestion?”_

_“Of course”._

_“Reassume your clothing”._

 

_Jim grinned._

_“Can I get rid of them again later?”_

_“I promise to relieve you of all items of clothing at the earliest opportunity – once we have attended to most other unfinished business of the day”._

_“How do you mean ‘most’?” Jim grumbled as he dropped down to the floor and retrieved his tunic shirt. Honestly, Bones…. He could at least have had the decency to open those doors five or ten seconds later._

_“Given the sequence of events of the last few minutes, and the particular outcome, you will be the last of my unfinished business Jim”._

_And Jim almost lost his resolve to go this moment to find Bones._

_They dressed, smiling at each other. Then a thought struck Jim._

_“Spock…..how do you feel about the fact Bones knows? That he saw us?”_

_“As you know, like you I have enjoyed our privacy and secrecy. It is, as you say, just us. But I have always been aware that at some point the crew would know – and that the doctor, given his exceptional standing in your life, would likely be the first. The fact that he now knows has simply brought the date of our disclosing forwards, unless, of course, that you choose for no one else to know for the time being. Either way Jim, I am with you, and I am happy. As for the fact that he was suddenly made witness to what was most likely a fairly detailed and illustrative scene, I feel worse for Leonard than for my own case – Vulcans are private beings, but they do not embarrass easily. The good doctor will likely suffer that more. However, I also don’t think that will be issue. I rather believe that the most major outcome of this event for myself will be that the doctor wants to talk to me about it. Or, more specifically, about you”._

_“You think?”_

_“He is going to, as I believe is said on earth, ‘give me the dad talk’”._

_“What, the ‘what are your intentions with my Jim?’ Jim asked, laughing._

_“Essentially, yes”._

_“Oh….” said Jim. He was actually surprised for a moment. Then, “And what are you going to say?”_

_And Spock’s reply to this surprised him even more._

_“Actually Jim, for now that will be between myself and Leonard. But once he and I have had that conversation, I will allow him to tell you”._

_Spock was looking at him steadily, and clearly. Jim trusted him absolutely._

_“….Ok”._

_They kissed in parting, long and soft._

_“See you on the bridge”, Jim whispered._

_“Assuredly”. Spock put his hand to Jim’s cheek, marvelled that he could touch that spun light, something so beautiful, and not disturb it. “And do not worry ashyam…. All will be well with your Leonard”._

 

...................................................................................

 

Your Leonard.

It was a lovely expression, Jim thought. Perfect, in fact. Jim and Bones were to each other what no one else could ever be. That deserved recognition, and naming. And oh how it deserved more than this situation he had caused, that he now had to try and explain. He dreaded to think what new depths of So-Done-With-Your-Shit-Jim awaited him behind that door.

But, he believed Spock, as always. Bones loved him, and loved him unconditionally. Jim knew this, because he’d spent a vast amount of their friendship cheerfully throwing those conditions around. Usually injuries of the could-have-been-avoided kind, wanton sacrifices of himself into danger, multiple fights from which he’d needed prompt rescuing (and also involved more injuries of the could-have-been-avoided kind), countless drunken episodes, flagrant rule-breaking, and finally, and most significantly, going to space. Bones’ loyalty had never wavered. Neither had his perpetual grouchiness and his fondness for turning Jim into a human cactus – but Jim knew that these characteristics, too, were testament to the fact that Bones was never going to go anywhere that did not have Jim Kirk. He’d just have to hope that it was this that won out, after a customary period of Jim mentally huddling against a wall under a barrage of verbally hurled objects.

 

And with this reflection as encouragement, Jim drew up his chest, squared his shoulders, and knocked.

 

[TBC]


	3. "Your Jim"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And I will keep finding you, and keeping you, forever, for as long as Jim Kirk is a part of this universe. Do you understand?"
> 
> Jim and Bones finally talk in the wake of Bones' discovery, and Jim discovers that the conversation is less to do with his and Spock's relationship, and more to do with his and Bones'. And that it is far more important than he had thought it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic began quite light-heartedly, but while writing this chapter the real depth of the bond between Jim and Bones, and how important it is for both of them, took over. But I have tried to keep a degree of the humour, because it is a lot of how these two function together. Either way, it has been a real joy to write. I hope it brings even a fraction of that to anyone reading it.
> 
> Also, this will now be four chapters, rather than the original three. Because Bones has yet to have 'the dad talk' with Spock, which he most certainly would do, and I literally cannot wait to see what they have to say to each other! XD
> 
> With love x

No reply.

 

He is sorely tempted to run away. But for one thing, he is fully aware that if Bones _is_ inside, and happens to open the door to see Jim having just cherry knocked, there is no conceivable way that Bones will not throw a hypo at him, darts style – and get the shot. Given that opening doors appears to be a rather dramatic activity for Bones today, the likelihood of this happening is high. And for another thing, Jim is not twelve. No, he has knocked, he knows Bones is in there, he knows he is likely ignoring the door because he thinks it’s Jim, and that he probably doesn’t trust himself not to open it and punch him straight in the face.

 

He knocked again.

 

And this time, it opened.

 

For a few moments Bones simply stared at Jim, standing in the doorway with his hand still on the panel, neutral faced, as if he’d opened the door to a stranger.

 

Jim’s heart plummeted.

 

Then Bones’ expression turned to one of (sarcastic) recognition.

 

“Oh, hello Jim! I’m sorry, for a minute there I didn’t recognise you without a Vulcan attached to your nether regions”.

 

Jim was frozen. Artificially friendly Bones was terrifying.

 

Then Bones’ features rearranged themselves into something resembling human thunder, and he folded his arms and scowled at Jim as if Jim had just asked if he could go and play in the warp-core.

 

Ah, that was better. Terrifying Bones - much less terrifying.

 

Jim re-claimed his resolve, and cleared his throat.

 

“Bones…..please can I come in?”

 

Bones was regarding him from underneath a frown so low Jim wondered that he wasn’t being poked in the eye by his own eyebrows. It took a few seconds. But eventually, he turned round and went back to sit at his desk, leaving the door open. Well, Jim supposed he had known it was hardly going to be a champagne reception. He followed Bones in, and closed the door.

 

Quite how astoundingly uncomfortable this silence was was, to Jim, almost laughable. “Uncomfortable silence?” he wanted to challenge anyone else in the future who ever used this expression to him again. “Your friend has just told you they’re having an affair with your wife, and you think that’s an uncomfortable silence? You’ve just had to tell the last one-night stand that you’ve given her Andurian warts, and you think _that’s_ an uncomfortable silence? Accidentally laugh out loud at a text during a funeral and you think _that’s_ an uncomfortable silence? Oh no my friend, that’s amateur level. When you have stood face to face with a Georgian doctor, your best friend, who is not known for his calm demeanour, who hates space and everything about it and only took the job as CMO on the ship that you captain because of his devotion to you, who you share everything with, and who just came across you and your Vulcan First Officer in the science lab undertaking a very specific piece of biology because you failed to tell him about this fairly significant development, and who has a rather disconcerting variety of very heavy looking implements rather too close to hand…. _That,_ sir, is an uncomfortable silence”.

 

Jim knew he should speak first. Although, Bones wasn’t exactly looking at him expectantly. He was just…..just looking at him. His dark eyes were studying Jim’s face with an expression Jim wasn’t sure he had seen before. It wasn’t exactly anger, although that lurked comfortingly below the surface, as ever. And it wasn’t indignation, or betrayal. It wasn’t even disappointment – and it was this that shocked Jim, because it was the absence of disappointment that finally led him to identify the thought behind that look. Bones was looking at him as if he wasn’t actually quite sure who he was. At this, Jim’s entire inner core quailed in fear. He _hated_ disappointing Bones, hated it. Even at the times when he skipped medbay, or avoided his physicals, or unleashed on the man some other mad scheme that was bound to send him apoplectic with reprimands and dodgy metaphors, he was always aware of the undercurrent of guilt, and an anxiety that he was somehow a problem to Bones when he should have been the very opposite. But _this….._ Bones lack of recognition. God this was worse. As much as he hated defying Bones because, despite what Bones or anyone else may think, he was actually one of the only two people in the universe for whom he wanted to do as he was told, at least Bones’ displeasure at most of his behaviour was a routine part of their relationship. It always had been, and Jim knew, ultimately, that its source was in Bones’ love for him. But for Bones to be looking at Jim as though he didn’t know him anymore seemed to have caused a rift that petrified Jim so badly that it was all he could do to hold himself back from babbling.

 

“Bones, I’m so sorry - I never meant for that to happen - I had no idea you were - I thought there’d be time - I would have - I would never have – if I’d have – I’m so sorry – please don’t think that – “

 

Ok. Apparently he couldn’t do that either.

 

Jim really had no idea where to start. He had given speeches, to his crew, to Starfleet, to the Federation, to enemies, speeches that had taken them into heroic battle, speeches that had got them out again, rousing, inspiring, born-leader speeches. And right now he seemed to have forgotten ninety percent of his vocabulary, including all grammar and articulation. He had never felt less like a captain, but worse, he had never felt less like Bones’ best friend. And he would have hung up his stripes to keep that particular rank.

 

He stood, miserable and helpless, in front of Bones’ desk, and tried not to think about how usually when he came in here he flopped straight onto the sofa, whether Bones was on it or not, or even straight onto the bed, whether Bones was in it or not. About how he never judged the space between them even if they ended up both occupying the same half a metre squared of the entire set of quarters because it was so easy and familiar being close to Bones, and he liked it. He tried not to think about how Bones would grunt at him, having been interrupted from his PADD reports, or coffee-break (“you spilled it, Jim, now you go and get me another one before I put ensign Williams’ catheter up your nose!”), or reading, or sleep, and push him away, but only enough so that he could move a fraction, or breathe. About how behind these doors, usually, they were no longer Captain and CMO, or rather, Trainwreck and Outraged Surgeon to Trainwreck, but just…..them. As it always had been, since the day they met, when Bones was afraid of the shuttle shaking apart and that had been all it took to seal them together. He tried not to think about it.

 

It was all he wanted.

 

Finally, it was Bones who spoke the first coherent words.

 

“How long has it been going on?” he asked. He is still looking at Jim with that same expression, and his voice is quiet.

 

Jim wrung his hands.

 

“About two months”. He feels sick.

 

Bones’ face is even.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

'Here’s your chance', Jim’s brain says. 'For the love of God, James Tiberious Kirk, at least make _this_ bit a decent speech!' Jim steps forwards, his hands held before him in imploration and openness.

 

“I wanted to, Bones, God I wanted to, really I did. I’ve hated you not knowing – I literally just said to Spock that things aren’t right in the world when you don’t know something about me. I just….I wasn’t sure….I just….” ('JAMES!' Says his brain. 'FUCKING WAKE UP MAN!') Jim cleared his throat. “I wasn’t sure quite where it was going, but it was really good – _is_ really good – and I’ve not exactly got a great track record when it comes to these sorts of things, so I thought this time I’d do it differently. I’d try and protect it for a bit”.

 

“Protect it….from _me?”_

 

His brain slow claps.

 

“No, Bones, not like that”, he carries on, desperately. “I didn’t really know how to explain it, and….I didn’t want to break it by saying it out loud”.

 

That surprised him. Jim hadn’t been aware that that was the actual reason. Apparently it surprised Bones too, because he sat back in his chair at that point, and his expression softened slightly.

 

“Go on”, he said, after a few moments.

 

“Bones – so much of me wanted to tell you. I hated you not knowing. On the other hand, it was something I had to get to grips with myself. This is completely new to me…even I couldn’t process it. So I didn’t know how to process it out loud. I’m sorry. I really am. Bones…”

 

Jim took a step forwards. _Please just let this be over._

 

Bones sighed and spread his hands on the desk in front of him.

 

“Actually, I did know”, he said.

 

Jim gaped at him.

 

“Wh…. _how?”_

 

Bones looked up at him, and the look of non-recognition had, to Jim’s intense relief, gone, and been replaced by something almost completely the opposite. Bones’ next words were a direct reflection of his expression.

 

“Because I know you, Jim. I _know_ you inside and out, and you might not have been able to process it internally, but to my eyes at least, you were damn well processing it on that out”.

 

“I…..I didn’t know I was that obvious”, Jim said, rather weakly.

 

“Like I said”, Bones replied, quietly. “You are obvious to me”.

 

And Jim smiled. But….

 

“So why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.

 

“Why?!” Bones exclaimed, leaning forwards on the desk, tone suddenly sharper. “Because, _Jim,_ before…..well, before I saw _that -_ and God help me, by the way, I have seen a lot of shit in my life, but that is one thing that I would dearly love to unsee – before, I didn’t really have to actually look at it. And I don’t mean ‘look at it’ like I had to fucking look at it today. I mean I didn’t have to really deal with it, or with what it meant. And I didn’t have to deal with the fact that _you weren’t telling me_ ”.

 

Bones was hurt. Jim wanted to cry.

 

“I had a feeling I knew that the two of you were in there – the goddamn doors were locked for god’s sake. But the last thing I could have done with was opening it to see you being fucked through the wall of the science lab, which, oh wait, I DID, and then for you to arrive up here ten minutes later _looking_ as though you’ve been fucked through the wall of the science lab, which, OH WAIT – YOU DID!!”

  

Jim felt about five years old. Except for this was worse. Much worse. Because when he was five, there were very few people who he cared about enough that they could make him feel like this if he upset them. Bones, on the other hand. Bones was a centre of his universe. He had that terrible useless yet powerful feeling of retrospective regret. Why, _why,_ had he not just told him in the first place.

 

“But also, Jim”, Bones continued, more quietly now, as if regretting what he was about to say, “I didn’t say anything because…. for as long as it wasn’t actual  _fact,_ I could hope that I was wrong”.

 

A flicker of non-comprehension passed Jim’s face.

 

“You hoped you were wrong?”

 

“Yes! That is the fact of it – I hoped I was wrong!”

 

Bones’ voice had risen again. Time to rip the band-aid off. Jim steeled himself for the inevitable.

 

“Are you….”, he began, courage wavering slightly as he peeled up the edge. “Are you….mad?”

 

At this, along with his escalating voice, Bones stood up and lifted his hands from the desk only to slam them back down.

 

And there he is, Jim thinks, in all his wonderful old-country-doctor glory, all non-recognition of Jim gone from his face, replaced with the particular combination of annoyance, frustration, incredulity, and sheer bewildered-at-the-stupidity-of-this-genius astonishment at the man in front of him that was all Bones, and that was all Bones’ look reserved specially for Jim. The entire empire of their relationship had been built on that look, and as unnerving as it was to be caught in its firing line, Jim wouldn’t change it for the captaincy of all the starships in the Federation. This, he expected. This, he knows.

 

“Of course I’m mad you idiot!” Bones yells. “Everything you do is reckless and crazy and dangerous, which means that everything you do makes me worry, and when I worry I get mad, which means that everything you do makes me mad….. So yeah - there’s some Vulcan logic for you. I’m mad!”.

 

Jim took a step forwards into Bones’ glare. It felt somewhat like stepping voluntarily into the beam of a phaser.

 

“But why are you _worried?_ ” he asked. “Why is this reckless and crazy and dangerous? I don’t understand”.

 

Bones sighed, ran a hand through his hair.

 

“Ok”, his voice calmer. For Bones. “So it’s not _reckless,_ exactly. I know that you haven’t thrown yourself into this with no thought, like most other things you do in your apparently tireless quest to give me a heart attack.…I know that it’s pretty much all you’ve been able to think about for two years, whether you’ve liked it or not”

 

Jim smiled.

 

“I’m not done!”

 

Jim stopped.

 

“And maybe it’s not even all that crazy”, Bones went on. “Hell, you and Spock….. I think we all know that it’s what the universe intended. What it’s always intended, every time you two show up in it. I think you were, you _are,_ designed to be together. Your fates are…..just, well….” Bones coughed gruffly. “Well whatever - you and Spock.

 

“But Jim…” Here, Bones looked genuinely distressed. Not mad, or disappointed, or liable-to-throw-something distressed. Just… Sad. Jim saw it. He looked sad. Jim wanted to hug him. More than that, he wanted Bones to hug _him._ But that was selfish. He had caused this. He had to show some vestige of responsibility for himself, for their friendship. For Bones. Who showed him unerring responsibility day after day after day.

 

Bones sat down, obviously searching for the words.

 

“The thing is”, he said at last, “I can deal with your reckless, and your crazy. I’ve been doing it a long time, and it’s who you are. _You_. It is why, although I may be your best friend, you are also now my captain, God help me. I wouldn’t have it any other way. But what I can’t deal with Jim, is the dangerous. And this is dangerous”.

 

“Spock is not a danger to me!” Jim retorted. He was trying to understand, but that – he could not.

 

“I don’t think he would ever mean to be, Jim”, Bones said, gently now. “But he may well be regardless. He and his Vulcan interpretation of responsibilities. What if he makes a decision that he thinks would be more _rational_ or whatever, that took him away, or meant that this….” Bones gestured at Jim with a broad hand. “That this couldn’t go on, for some reason”.

 

“Bones, you’re scaring me”.

 

“Jim, I’m trying to explain…. I’ve looked after you, I care for you – “

 

“You shout at me”.

 

“Let me finish!”

 

“Ok, you don’t shout at me”. Jim hid a small grin.

 

If glowering was audible, Bones’ face was currently a siren. But Jim heard the kindness in his voice when he spoke again. The kindness that made him a great doctor, despite the gruffness. The kindness that made him Jim’s favourite human being in the universe. (Temporarily counting Spock as a Vulcan).

 

“I patch you up, I’ve sewn you back together, put things back where they should be, changed your clothes when you’ve thrown up over yourself, changed my clothes when you’ve thrown up over me, changed the size of your windpipe so that you can, you know, breathe, when you’ve for some unearthly reason been determined not to…. I’ve put you to bed, I’ve got up to you in the night every ten minutes when you’ve been so ill you don’t remember your own name - your biobed is basically my alarm clock. I’ve put your damn catheter in so many times I could do it in my sleep. (Jim:“Please don’t do that in your sleep”.) Do you know how much time I spend down here synthing ‘Someone add X or Y to Jim’s list of allergies while I stick this in his neck” serums? It’s a lot, Jim. You are allergic to a _lot_.”

 

“I’m aware”.

 

“I mean, you got hayfever on Ocampa - and nothing even bloody grows there!”

 

“What’s your point, Bones?”

 

“My point is, your care is a full time job. And I do it because I love you – you are the only reason I agreed to come back on this godforsaken sardine can”.

 

“Sshh, she can hear you”.

 

“Oh shut up. I do it because I love you, however much it takes, but Jim….there are not enough hours in the day, in the week, for me to give you as much care as you’d need if something went wrong between you and Spock. I wouldn’t be able to help. And it scares me. It scares me that I might have to watch that, and not be able to do what I always do, what you always trust me to do - which is make it better”.

 

Bones looked down at his hands. “I wouldn’t be able to make it better. That thought kills me. I don’t know if you’ve noticed kid, but you mean a lot to me. Put it this way. I hate it here. And I wouldn’t be anywhere else in the universe”.

 

Bones sat back, folded his armed, thinned his lips, and looked away from Jim. He had clearly finished.

 

In the quiet that followed, Jim simply stood and watched him. Looking at him now, this handsome, predictably unpredictable, hardworking, sacrificing, irritable Georgian doctor, who served him personally and professionally with such loyalty, and felt the most enormous rush of affection that Jim quite honestly did not know what to do with it. No, he reflected after a moment, it wasn’t just affection. It was love. A significant part of Jim Kirk had fallen in love with Leonard McCoy at the academy, wholeheartedly, and completely. Jim had spent so much of the first twenty years of his life being uncared for. Why was it, he wondered, that the universe had eventually seen fit to deliver him this level and depth of care (albeit at times wrapped up in a rather prickly disguise. Perhaps that was just in case he couldn’t handle the shock of the contrast). He had done nothing to deserve it – he hardly did anything to warrant it now. But there it was just the same. In Bones’ broad shoulders and unwieldy hypo-ing and random yelling. Jim Kirk may be the great man that he was always destined to be. But he would be nothing, quite literally nothing, without Bones.

 

Suddenly, Jim realised, this conversation was not really about he and Spock. It never really had been. It was about him and Bones, and how the two of them were going to navigate this next stage of their journey together. It was far more important than he ever imagined it would be.

 

First, he would have to reassure Bones about Spock. But after that…it had to be about them. Jim finally pulled himself completely together, and crossed the room to Bones’ bed. He took his boots off and swung his legs up, sitting back against the headboard as he had done on an almost daily basis back at the academy.

 

“Bones”, he said, kind, but matter-of-fact. “Me and Spock….I can’t just _not_ do it, just because there is a chance that something might go wrong. Imagine if that was my approach to everything else. Hmm? The _Enterprise_ wouldn’t be here anymore. We wouldn’t be here… Earth wouldn’t be here. Most of what we do that is worth doing involves a risk. And this is one risk that I know will be worth it. And I have always made it back from the brink, because you have brought me back. And I know you can do it again, whatever the cause”.

 

Bones looked at him. Once, while strapped into that mind-fuck death-trap “Starfleet shuttle” he had said to this jumped up little stranger beside him that he had nothing left. He’d had nowhere else to go. And that it was likely they’d die on that shuttle. Then that jumped up little stranger had reassured him, and smiled a particular smile, and even though that smile would quite literally become known across whole galaxies, Leonard had had the peculiar feeling that, in its beam, he’d found home right where he sat in those damn straps.

 

Jim Kirk’s smile. And of course, Jim Kirk’s charm. Jim Kirk had, of course, turned out be a complete liability – reckless, irresponsible, ( _fun_ ), rash, wild – and often simply just a danger to himself, Bones frequently having to fish him out of all manner of previously inconceivable situations. But it was too late. The damage of the kid’s ineffable magnetism had been done, and Bones would have followed him across the universe. Which, in the end, he’d had to actually bloody _do_.

 

“It hurts me when you’re hurt Jim, do you see that? It has done ever since that day you told me shuttles were safe and I told you my life story in thirty seconds. It’s my job to make you not hurt. To look after you. It’s my job…I mean, my job is to be CMO of this ship, but that’s because you’re here. So…you are my job”.

 

“I know”.

 

They looked at each other for a few moments, and exchanged a small smile. Then Bones got up, kicked off his own boots, and joined Jim on the bed. They leaned back together, shoulder to shoulder, like in their days at the academy, when life was easier and when it was just them, and Jim wasn’t the unspeakably young captain of Starfleet’s most prestigious ship with the universe spread out before him and responsible for more than he could ever have imagined. Bones has never told him what he is about to.

 

“I am so proud of you, Jim, do you know that?”

 

It was so entirely unexpected that Jim’s breath caught in his chest.

 

“What?”

 

“I’ve never told you”, Bones went on. “I’ve always hoped you’ve known, but sometimes it’s important to actually tell somebody something – _isn’t it”._

 

Bones emphasised these last words by turning into Jim and hissing them in his ear. Jim laughed, not missing their significance.

 

“Yes Bones”, he said, rubbing the ear that had been made to tickle. “I’m sorry again, for that. Really I am”.

 

“I know kid. And I’m sorry I yelled”.

 

“No you’re not!”

 

“True. Just seemed like something I should probably say”.

 

For a few minutes they sat in quiet, sharing each other’s space, feeling the pressure of the rise and fall of the other’s ribcage as they breathed alongside each other. It was so reassuring and so utterly _home_ that Jim could barely stand it.

 

Eventually he asked,

 

“Why are you proud of me?”

 

Bones shifted position, legs pressing against Jim's.

 

“Because, Jim. Because. You are brave, and kind, and you’ve made your own way, no matter what anyone else thought. You’ve had the courage to be everything that you could be. Not many people achieve that. Not many people even try. And you’ve done it under huge pressure, and in the face of….well, not to put too fine a point on it, but a whole clusterfuck shitstorm of crap circumstances. I don’t know anyone else who would have become what you have. They’d have gone the other way. Your determination never fails to astound me. Neither does your determination to hurt, injure, or otherwise fuck yourself up, and that makes me want to kill you myself, pretty much all the time. But that bit you did know”.

 

Jim smiled down at his hands. The smile faded. Here, safe with Bones, against his warm shoulder and with his deep Southern voice the soundtrack to his thoughts, Jim can admit to something else.

 

“But", he said... "It's just….I’m not always that person, Bones”.

 

Bones didn't respond. Gave him chance to go on.

 

“Quite often, these days, I feel….well, I think it's that I feel old. _Old_. Just….wrung out. Like….paper that’s been folded too many times”.

 

Bones continued to look at him steadily. Specifically, he was looking at him from the point of view that this was his captain. Brave, reckless, impetuous, brilliant James T. Kirk, who had saved more lives than Bones ever would, and who loved as intensely as he detested anyone or anything that threatens those under his command. Bones loves him for this more than he could ever tell him. He _is_ proud, and often unnerved, that the young man who he threatened to throw up over on that shuttle those many years ago has risen to such an incomparable and venerable status. It is one of the reasons that Bones is so glad he is Jim’s doctor. However great and esteemed the mighty Captain Kirk may be, he is still flesh and blood. He is still susceptible to injury, he is still in need of care, and Bones will at least always be able to meet him at that level. Well, “be able”. Not enough quotation marks in the world. Fucking _have to,_ on an almost daily basis, so prevalent was this captain’s propensity for attracting harm. It was part of his raison etre.

 

Yet Jim couldn’t know that sometimes, like now, he looked even more like his incredibly-young-for-his-position age. That little boy in the captain’s uniform, who sometimes displayed all too painfully those gaps in his past where he had just needed someone to direct him, give him orders, just tell him what the hell to do. He’d never been given orders, then rejected all the ones he was given for a short period of time, then got catapulted into giving them. It was no wonder that Jim occasionally felt lost. Bones sighed, and, turning Jim towards himself slightly, drew him in for a cuddle.

 

Jim closed his eyes and smiled against Bones’ lab-coated chest. Despite the yelling and the scowling and the scolding and the worrying cheer and readiness with which he stabbed hypos into people, Bones was actually an exceptionally good cuddler. And one that would kill you the moment you voiced this thought – and that would torture you for a good three hours before killing you the moment he found out you had told anyone else. But a good cuddler he was. He was broad and solid, and there was something wonderfully comforting and reassuringly consistent about the fact that he was often still grumbling to himself during said cuddle, and that it was audible through his breast-bone as a deep, familiar, near yet distant rumble. He’d always be quiet in the end, and the he’d let the silence settle for a while. Bones, unlike many people Jim knew, was not afraid of that quiet, of the intimacy that it created. He was also not afraid of truly _holding_ – it had surprised Jim the first time Bones had hugged him properly that he hadn’t let go immediately - Jim would have had him pegged as the awkward-manly-double-clap-on-the-back-with-which-to-continually-break-contact-just-in-case-anyone-got-the-wrong-idea type. But he’d wrapped his arms around him, and held on for a good few moments, just long enough for Jim to start to sink into this rare type of comfort that he’d been denied most of his life.

 

Jim had not reacted to the lack of loving physical contact in the conventional way of now being extremely uncomfortable with it, unable to accept or cope with this type of action. He had processed it the alternate way, in that he longed for it. An entire part of Jim Kirk’s language was comprised of tactility, a dialogue of touches that expressed myriad words of affection, support, laughter, thanks, or love. He liked to touch – and he liked to be touched. The next time Bones had hugged him, Jim hadn’t missed the opportunity. He pressed himself right back in, felt Bones’ arms tighten around him, and relaxed. As it is for all people who find in the midst of the relentless and often incomprehensible clamour of life someone who speaks their language, it had been utter bliss.

 

After that they had cuddled a lot back in the academy, when they were still just children really, compared to now. Jim had come to realise that this aspect of the eternally grouchy doctor was actually reserved just for him. Comfortably tangled side by side in the same single bed with the TV on, the bottle of whiskey between them, a foot against a leg, a hip against a hip, eventually falling asleep in the same space, waking up with one curled around the back of the other, or face to face, someone’s arm trapped and numb, someone else’s random limb out of the covers and cold, or both of them much too far on one side of the bed. Quite often, when they had gone to bed in their own spaces, Bones would be woken up later by Jim getting in to bed with him anyway. Usually, Jim wouldn’t say anything. Just creep in beneath the covers in the darkness and press himself silently into Bones’ solid form as Bones put an arm over him and resettled around him. Sometimes, it was palpably clear to Bones that something was wrong. On some level that wasn’t to do with work, or the academy, or the pressure on Jim – or seventeen too many shots of tequila. He might ask then, whispering a deep “are you alright?” into the dark form that was now Jim in his bed. Jim sometimes answered, sometimes not. Either way, it was an exceptional and inviolable part of their relationship that isolated them from everyone else, that ensured they occupied a certain place in each other’s lives that was wholly inaccessible to anyone else.

 

Now, being held warm and close to Bones’ familiar clinical scent of antiseptic, rubber, and a faint trace of alcohol that may or may not have been surgical, Jim was, for the millionth time, thankful that he was the only person in the world who got to experience this. It wasn’t Spock. But he was Bones – and this was enough.

 

They stayed like that for some time, mercifully respected by no comms, no medical emergencies – and no-one opening any doors that they shouldn’t have.

 

After a while, Jim felt rather than heard the words simmering within Bones’ chest. He lifted his head, felt the graze of Bones’ stubble against his own cheek before he pushed himself up under Bones’ arm and onto an elbow. Whatever it was that Bones needed or wanted to say, Jim owed it to him.

 

“You ok?” he whispered. Echoed memories of their early time at the academy rang out softly between them. Bones had suffered then. Not so much over the divorce, although Jim knew he raged against the sheer injustice of how Jocelyn had treated him (Jim, for his part, would gladly have hired an assassin). Her betrayal had been more expected, a sad but inevitable step in a doomed journey. Bones had been almost relieved: They finally had an excuse on which to ground the fighting, and on which to part.

 

But losing everything else….Losing Joanna.

 

Joanna. For their first six months, Bones had barely coped. He drank too much, he missed classes, he almost failed several exams which, as an already qualified M.D he had passed and been practicing the content of for years. He was hauled up for a disciplinary, and was reprimanded by the senior faculty countless times. He would have been nearing the end - except for one thing. The little flickering light in his life that he had come to realise was the presence of Jim Kirk. Jim had shone in Bones’ darkness in ways Bones had thought could never be possible again. Through his laughter, his spontaneity, his deep vulnerability, his careful attention paid to anything Bones had to say - whether that be late night rantings at the world, or Bones’ advice on the biological aspects of an assignment, or his describing to Jim some other part of his beloved Georgia, which sounded to Jim exactly the same as all the other parts of his beloved Georgia (hot, grassy, dusty - sometimes involving some mountains) but which he would listen to just as attentively all the same – some sun had seeped back into the night of Bones’ existence, until one day he realised that there had been a dawn, and he hadn’t even noticed. And in it stood Jim, illuminating everything good in Bones’ life. Jim had been at Bones’ horizon ever since.

 

Now, Bones was staring directly ahead. He had loosed his hold on Jim slightly when Jim moved, but he didn’t remove his arm. He nodded vaguely in response to Jim’s question, but Jim knew better. In fact, he thought he knew what Bones was about to say. Because Jim could feel it too. It was palpable, from the moment Bones had opened those doors, all through their conversation in this room, it had been building and wending its way – drawing together their history and their present - into how they lay together on the bed now. Jim knew how potentially painful this could be for this good man. But he wasn’t afraid. Already he knew what his response was going to be. But first, it was important that Bones’ expressed it.

 

“Tell me”, Jim whispered, pressing slightly into Bones’ side, eyes still on his face, although he was almost too close to focus.

 

Bones gave a grimace.

 

“Ugh…”

 

“Bones”.

 

Bones passed his free hand over his face.

 

“Ok”, he said. “There is something else that I do want to say about you and Spock….but it’s entirely selfish. I’m completely aware of that, and I'm sorry …..Is that alright?”

 

“Of course it is”.

 

“Well….” For one shocking moment here, Bones looked forlorn. And the presence of such an expression on Bones’ face was to Jim so horrifying that Jim actually involuntarily gripped Bones’ tunic where it lay in the lab-coat gap beneath his hand on Bones’ midriff. To his relief, Bones managed to go on fairly shortly. The animation of talking kept that terrible look at bay.

 

“In the academy….it was me and you. We had somehow found each other – or rather, you found me, I was a hundred kinds of lost, you know that – and I couldn’t believe how damned lucky I was. The divorce, Joanna….” Bones swallowed. Jim slid his arm further across Bones’ stomach and gave a small squeeze. “Well, yeah”, Bones cleared his throat. “That. Then you show up, and something was right again. I mean, you drove me crazy, and I could never get rid of you even if I’d wanted to. Plus _c****t_ you were a hard medical case to get to grips with!”

 

Jim laughed.

 

“But, right there in the centre of everything else that was going on, it was us. And here’s the real thing….All over campus, everyone was getting to know you. Your effect was spreading. The great Jim Kirk, all charisma and charm and capability and genius. Women fell at your feet, older guys wanted to crush you, younger guys wanted to follow you. You were…. Well, it was true, they were right. You _were_ great. You know that I thought that more than anyone else. I still do and always will. But at the same time, I knew another Jim. I knew other things about you that no-one else did. I knew which kind of toothpaste you liked, and that you gagged if you tried to use floss. I knew how to make your coffee, that it was different depending on what was happening in the day, and I got to the be the one who put it front of you at the table in the morning when you were half dead and complaining about the kitchen lights being “too loud”. I knew that Andurian whiskey made you lairy, and Glenfiddich whiskey made you affectionate. I was your emergency contact (another full-time job, may I remind you). Sometimes there’d be parties going on and everyone would expect us, or at least you, to be there, but we wouldn’t be because we’d be under my duvet on the sofa watching TV re-runs we’d already seen a million times and could quote word for word. I could tell just from the line of your shoulders when you were upset, or from how you opened the door when you came home at the end of the day how you were feeling. I knew your allergies, I carried your specific hypos. It was only me who you’d have when you were in trouble, or ill, or at a loss. I knew your details _and_ I knew your weaknesses, and to me those things made you even more great than anyone else could ever know. I loved that, of all the people in all the universe, I got to be that person in your life. And that you had this place in mine. All of it, made you….well……it made you….”

 

“Your Jim”.

 

Bones choked back an emotional smile. “Yeah”, he whispered. “That’s exactly it…. My Jim”.

 

All his gruffness, Jim saw, all defences, curtness, was, in this moment, gone. All of a sudden, he wasn’t a doctor, among the most brilliant medical brains in the galaxy, he wasn’t a superior member of Starfleet, trained in combat and experienced in battle, he wasn’t the man whose hands were marked with history, sacrifice, and dedication. He was just a human being, who had experienced loss, and who was desperately afraid of losing another – his most beloved – human being.

 

Jim sat up. Turning himself to face Bones, he sat cross-legged, took one of Bones’ broad, rough hands in his own, and leaned in.

 

“Bones….look at me”.

 

Bones’ dark eyes met his, and Jim smiled.

 

“Earlier on, after…you know, _the event_ , my first reaction wasn’t embarrassment, or awkwardness – none of that. It was just simply that you had found out something important that I hadn’t told you myself, and it killed me that it might have hurt you. Spock….I know you might struggle with this a bit, but it was Spock who assured me that, when I saw you and we talked about it, it would be ok. And he summed that up with just one phrase”.

 

Jim held on to Bones’ hand, and let him ask the question.

 

“Which was?”

 

Jim smiled a small smile that reflected the privacy of this moment between them.

 

“Your Leonard”.

 

Bones looked at Jim for a few moments longer, then returned the small smile. Jim went on.

 

“You see – Spock knows what we are. He sees it exactly as you do, as I do. He would never stand in the way of what we – you and me – already have. And, perhaps more importantly, he couldn’t _”._ Jim gave Bones’ hand a slight shake. “He _couldn’t,_ Bones. I wouldn’t let him, but the point is, he couldn’t if he tried, or wanted to. You and me, this – us”, Jim put his hand to his own chest and then to Bones’. “This is for always. And me and Spock, we may well also be…like you said before, always destined to be together somehow through time and space. But I have no doubt that you and I are too. That’s how I found you. And ever since the moment I found you, I knew I wanted to keep you. And I will keep finding you, and keeping you, forever, for as long as Jim Kirk is a part of this universe. Do you understand?”

 

Bones looked down at their hands, and nodded. Jim knew he didn’t trust himself to speak. So Jim lay back again, in the perfect space between Bones’ body and his arm, and felt that arm tighten even more strongly than before, heart beating into Jim’s own chest.

 

After some quiet had passed, Bones gave a huff.

 

“Huh….damn hobgoblin’s better at this than I thought”.

 

“Tell me about it”.

 

“Well”, Bones’ voice took on a lighter tone now, “you’d best hope you never lose me Jim. You would literally die without me”.

 

“I know”, Jim laughed.

 

“No, I mean _literally_ die. You actually could not physically live without me. You would be so thoroughly dead".

 

“I think Spock knows that too”.

 

‘He’d better”, Bones said, shortly.

 

After that, there were no more words on it to be spoken. Jim knew there would have to be some negotiating of this new territory, that was possibly even more unknown and unfamiliar and untraversed as the space around them. But not for one moment would he dare to complain about it. He was privileged to know and love the, as far as he was concerned, two best people in the universe. Any challenges that accompanied that were a small price to pay. But for now, all that was important was this time with Bones, Bones holding him close, their conversation gradually turning to laughter, shared observations on crew members, gentle bickering, the two of them safe in what was, and always would be, the most familiar world in the universe – theirs.

 

 


End file.
